


From The Hip

by SerpentineJ



Series: USUK Sweetheart Week 2015 [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Firefly, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, M/M, USUK - Freeform, USUK Sweetheart Week, Woo!, firefly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-21
Updated: 2015-02-21
Packaged: 2018-03-14 08:06:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3403115
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpentineJ/pseuds/SerpentineJ
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Day 2, Science Fiction. A Firefly AU, in which Alfred is the captain of the Firefly-class smuggler ship Lady Liberty and Arthur is a legendary Anti-Alliance pirate known as Blackbeard. (Knowledge of Firefly not required to understand this fic.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	From The Hip

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: So… yeah. I’m, very late. I blame all the snow; it’s not conductive to productive writing sessions, damnit! And then I sat down and ate a bagel and typed 4000 words…
> 
> I don’t know how much of a market there is for a Hetalia/Firefly crossover… I imagine the overlap between the two fandoms would be pretty small…
> 
> Alright, so here’s the lowdown on Firefly; they’re space smugglers, and the Alliance is the corrupt government. Reavers are like intelligent space-zombies that everyone’s scared of. That’s pretty much all you need to know.
> 
> Also, there’s a bit of Chinese mixed in there, ‘cause that’s kind of Firefly’s thing? Only a sentence or two, and it’s nothing important. And “gorram” is a way of saying “goddamn” and “shiny” means “awesome” or something along those lines.

“Alfred. Alfred, come in.” The pilot’s voice crackled in his ear, making him frown in concentration as he finished disabling the booby trap set around his paycheck. The helmet was bothersome, trapping stagnant air around his head, but the other option was death, so Alfred didn’t complain.

The American sighed in relief as he disengaged the last of the explosives, tucking the dangerous material in his jacket pocket (hey, it was pretty stable stuff and who knew when it would come in handy) before beckoning two of his companions to manage the case between them.

“Hey. Yeah,” he said into his mouthpiece, “we’re all good here, Roderich. Had a bit of a scare with some Alliance-issue explosives, but I disabled it.” Alfred turned around. “Hey, Feliciano, Romano, you guys got that box?

The more cheerful Italian chirped, “Yeah, Al!”; his brother glared and muttered, “We’re fine, you bastard.”

There was radio-silence for a bit, the three making their way back to the ship, until Roderich’s voice came back to life, tenser, strained.

“Um.” He cursed under his breath, and there was a sound like a fumbling for the microphone. “Eliza, have you got the thrusters? We might have to go full burn.”

Alfred frowned, beckoning at the Italians to hurry up and get the cargo in the cargo hold. “Rod, what’s the matter?”

The other man’s answer sent chills down his spine. 

“Alliance.”

The American’s eyes widened. “Son of a- how many, how far?”

The other hesitated before answering. “Not far; we’re probably in their range already, but they won’t see us unless they scan the ship thermally. And it’s a big ship, Captain.”

“Damnit.” He closed the cargo hold, all parties safely inside the ship, and tore off his helmet, running to the engine room while struggling out of his space suit. “Eliza!”

The girl poked her head out of the engine room, usually cheerful face drawn and focused. “Yeah, Cap’n?”

“Can we go full burn?”

The intercom crackled to life. “I’m afraid not, Captain. If we do, they’ll see us and give chase, and there’s no way we can outrun a ship of this magnitude.”

Alfred frowned, rubbing his forehead.

“Alright,” he said, mind whirring. “We’ll have to wait it out and hope they don’t scan this wreck. Worst comes to worst, we deploy a distraction and make a break for it.”

Elizaveta nodded at the plan, but Roderich didn’t respond.

“…Rod?” The American asked, looking up. “What’s happening?”

There was a moment’s silence, then the other spoke again.

“Er, Captain? You need to come see this for yourself.”

~~~~~~

“Holy-“

He had rushed to the cockpit, Eliza hot on his heels, only to stop in his tracks when he caught sight of the scene unfolding beyond the glass.

“What is it? Shi she ma?” Feliciano flew in, sounding panicky, hair messy and cheeks flushed, probably from the sprint from the cargo hold to the front of the ship. Romano was close behind.

They fell silent.

Alfred let out a breath, a word said half reverently, half disbelievingly at the… frankly impossible scene playing out before them.

“Pirates.”

~~~~~~

And it wasn’t just any pirate ship, either.

“Rod, would they notice if we high-tailed it outta here? Full burn, sprint to the nearest friendly planet?”

The pilot furrowed his brow. “Maybe, but it’s worth a shot. They’re going to do a thermal image of this wreck anyways, to see if there’s anyone on it before they raid it.”

A strangled gasp diverted all of their intention; everyone turned to Romano, whose eyes were wide and terrified.

“That’s not just any pirate ship, you damned bastards.” He croaked. “That’s the gorram SS Busby.”

~~~~~~

They got out of there not long after, when they were sure the crew of the Busby was fully occupied with raiding the Alliance ship and, likewise, the Alliance were busy fighting off the pirates.

Not that they would.

The Queen’s Vengeance, as Blackbeard’s crew called themselves, hadn’t lost a battle for nearly a decade.

Matthew, Alfred’s brother and first mate, pored over the maps in the drawing room.

“Hey, Mattie.” The other walked in, rubbing his eyes tiredly. “What’s up?”

“I’m just trying to calculate the chances of us outrunning the SS Busby of they do decide to pursue.” His voice isn’t loud, but it doesn’t waver. He looks up. “And how long has it been since you got a full night of sleep?”

Alfred chuckled. “Well, I got a few hours before this job.” The American blinked. “Speaking of, how long d’you think it’ll be before we’re in Felik and Toris’s airspace? I should tell them the job’s done.”

“Probably an hour at most.” Matthew sighed and put down his compass and protractor. “We’re in the Hooves’ airspace right now, but I heard Lukas is in a good mood, so Berwald and Tino’s tax shouldn’t be too high.”

“Gorramit.”

~~~~~~

“GORRAMIT.” Alfred cursed. 

Roderich was tense, eyes wide, fingers flying over the console of the ship. “They’re closing in, Captain, and there’s very little I can do. We’re Firefly class, after all.”

The alarm began to wail, signaling an emergency in the engine room, and Eliza’s frantic cursing was audible from the engine room.

~~~~~~

“We’re falling out of full burn, Cap’n!”

The American sprinted in. “Can’t you keep us together? We’ve got the Busby on our tail!”

The silver-haired girl rushed around, releasing valves and tightening caps, grabbing wrenches and smacking parts.

~~~~~~

It was only an hour later that the Lady Liberty was boarded by the Queen’s Vengeance.

~~~~~~

The top hatch of the Firefly was jacked open, a series of figures in spacesuits descending into the hall.

“Crew of the Lady Liberty!” The one in the front held up a megaphone, closing the entry point and shouting. “This is the Queen’s Vengeance, and I am Blackbeard. Surrender peacefully and no-one gets hurt.”

One by one, the crew filed into the hall, eyeing the newcomer apprehensively.

“Peaceful pirates?” Alfred was the first to speak. “I’ve never heard of something like that.”

The one at Blackbeard’s right spoke up, French accent glaringly obvious, tugging off his helmet. “We’ve come for your goods. If there’s no resistance, there is no reason for unnecessary bloodshed.”

At the same time, Matthew padded quietly into the hall, eyes widening when his eyes fall on the blond man.

“Francis?” He says, shocked.

‘Francis’ gasps. “Mathieu?”

~~~~~~

Another hour later, Alfred could not quite believe his luck.

But he’s getting a little ahead of himself.

~~~~~~

The two edge towards each other in the silence of the hallway.

“Er… Mattie?” His brother said, confusion coloring his words. “How do you know this guy?”

At the same time, Blackbeard, the one with the flame-red helmet, pulled it off and huffed. “Francis, what’s going on?”

Matthew answered first, looking over his shoulder.

“Um.” He was… blushing. “Well, I knew Francis from when I was in university and he was… in Companion school.”

Francis bowed. “We became quite close, if I recall.” He smiles up at his old friend.

“…” Alfred digested the newfound information. “Oh, HELL no.”

“Alfred?” Matthew was the lost one now.

The American took a step forwards, then another. Before he knew it, he had the Frenchman backed up against a wall in front of his own crew and the crew of the most infamous pirate ship to sail the stars in a century, which said Frenchman was a part of.

Granted, he wasn’t exactly thinking straight.

“You son of a froggy bitch.” He growls, waving a finger in the blonde’s face. “If you used my baby brother for… Companion practice, or- or took advantage of him, or hurt him at all-“

“Alfred!” Matthew was definitely flushed now, face a bright red. The rest of the Queen’s Vengeance was watching, shocked, and Alfred’s crew was beginning to edge away for fear of another instance of Alfred’s infamous temper. “He- he didn’t-“

Francis cut in smoothly. “I assure you,” he nodded respectfully, “that I did not touch, coerce, or otherwise… make advances on your brother.” 

The tension in the room seemed to lessen ever so slightly; now, instead of being the consistency of a particularly aged cheddar, it was a slice of pliant gouda.

“Not that I didn’t want to.” The Frenchman added, winking.

Alfred punched him in the face.

~~~~~~

“No, no,” the blonde waved Matthew’s hesitant hands away. “I’m perfectly fine; I see now that my comment was…” He glanced at Alfred, who looked only marginally remorseful. “In error.”

The rest of both crews were milling about awkwardly in the small communal meal room, trying to avoid each other’s eyes.

“Damn straight it was.” Blackbeard spoke up from his seat at the table, where he was observing the people around him. The staff of the Lady Liberty was… interesting. “You don’t know when to keep your trap shut, do you. Bloody frog.”

Feliciano began fluttering around the kitchen.

“Can we offer you something to drink?” He chirped. 

Romano smacked him over the head. “You don’t offer the enemy drinks, you dumbass.” He hissed.

“But that’s proper hospitality!”

Roderich dropped his face into his hands at his former charge’s naivety. Elizaveta patted him consolingly on the back.

A blonde pirate dressed in crisply pressed military uniform frowned at the Italians. “We will have to decline; there’s no way we can ensure there isn’t a drug in the beverage.” His accent was heavily German, voice deep and imposing.

“…ah.” Feliciano blinked in realization before grinning again, at the German this time. “Well, may I say, then, that you have stunning eyes! Fantastico!”

Romano punched him this time. The German turned red and began to sputter.

“…but Grandpa Roma said you’re supposed to pay people compliments-“

“Not when they’re trying to raid your ship and kill you, you moron-“

The brunet pirate leaning against the table beside the albino frowned. “Now,” he said, voice unhappy, “there will be no raiding or murdering occurring on this ship. After all, we have amigos in common!” This one was Spanish.

“Fuckin’ hell,” Alfred chuckled, looking away from glaring at Francis, who was still nursing his quickly blackening eye. “Are you all from different countries? What, are we having a UN meeting here?”

The red-eyed, mischievous pirate looked up. “Kesese…” He chuckled. It was the oddest laugh the American had ever heard, and he had heard a lot- this man’s was rough and shrill, scratchy and not unlike a small cackle. “You’re one to talk. American, Canadian,” he gestured to Matthew. “Italia, Austrian, and Hungarian?”

Roderich spoke up. “How did you know I was Austrian?” He frowned. “I haven’t said a word.”

“Well, you have now,” the unusual… well, his accent sounded German snickered. Rod rolled his eyes. “And you have the prissy look about you, plus the cravat and the sheet music sticking at your pocket… It was an easy guess, really.” He nodded at Eliza. “And typically, if there’s an Austrian nearby, there’s a Hungarian somewhere in the general vicinity. Heh.”

“Well,” Blackbeard interrupted, getting to his feet. “If there’s nothing else, we’ll be going.” He nodded towards Alfred. “Out of respect for our mutual acquaintances, we won’t raid you.”

The American frowned. Well, that was… somehow sarcastic.

“No!” The Spaniard said, brow furrowed. “Arth- I mean, Captain, we can’t fly anymore!” He crossed his arms. “We need at least three major parts replaced, Gil’s been complaining about the lights in his displays going out for three weeks now, our windshield’s actually cracked and we used up nearly all our fuel chasing after the Lady Liberty!” The man lowered his voice. “I’ve discussed this with you, mi amigo. We need some major repairs.”

The Englishman glared at him, but Alfred could see his resolve starting to break. Quickly, he spoke up.

“We’d be happy to extend out hospitality to the crew of the SS Busby.” He looked Blackbeard directly in the eyes, half-daring him to refuse.

His eyebrows (and really, they were freaking huge eyebrows) drew together. “And what would you demand in exchange for us tagging along with you to your next stop?”

Jones grinned, slightly predatorily. “Only a guarantee that we will never be accosted by your pirates again.”

“…fine.” The pirate held out his hand to seal the deal. “We are in agreement. My name,” he adds, “Is Arthur.”

Alfred takes the offered appendage, shaking it firmly before releasing it. “And I’m Captain Alfred F. Jones, at your service.” He bowed, more of a silly nod, and waved at his crew. “That’s Feliciano, the doctor, and his brother Romano, our… enforcer.” He chuckled at Feliciano’s cheery wave and his brother’s scowl. “The Austrian is Roderich, our pilot, and that’s Elizaveta, the mechanic.” The female of the two giggled and grinned, nudging her companion when he did nothing more than cock an eyebrow. “And you already know Matthew, my brother and the first mate.”

Arthur huffed. “Yes, well. Might as well get these blasted introductions out of the way.” He pointed at his team. “Our tactician, Ludwig,” the German frowned, “Gilbert, the pilot,” the albino snickered, “Antonio, mechanic,” (“Call me Toni!” The Spaniard laughed), “Francis, the first mate,” The Frenchie winked at Matthew. Alfred nearly throttled him. “And Kiku, our doctor, is still on board our ship.” He turned around. “Toni, would you fetch him?”

“Si, no problema.”

~~~~~~

Everyone relaxed a bit; Feliciano had attached himself to Ludwig and Kiku, much to Romano’s irritation, and Gilbert had taken to annoying Roderich and Elizaveta; Antonio was trying to engage Romano is a spot of conversation, Francis and Matthew had begun to catch up, and the two Captains found themselves chatting.

“You know,” Alfred mused, sipping from his glass of pop, “you guys aren’t what I’d expect from pirates.”

Arthur raised an eyebrow. “No?” He drank from his hip flask (and really, a hip flask? What was he, Victorian-era?). “Should we be brandishing cutlasses and over-enunciating our “r”s, wearing eyepatches and tricorn hats?”

The American chuckled. “Well,” He said, “no, not exactly. But I expected something more… frightening, bloodthirsty, from the crew of the infamous SS Busby and the notorious Blackbeard.”

“Those rumors are…” The Brit exhaled. “Highly overinflated.” He looked at the table. “We find ships, ransack them for their goods, and leave. We don’t kill people for fun- we’re not reavers.”

“Never said you were.”

~~~~~~

An arrangement was made: within an hour Elizaveta and Antonio had secured the top hatch of the Lady Liberty to the bottom one of the SS Busby. Matthew and Ludwig had calculated that the distance until reaching Felik’s house would be around a week with their now limited fuel reserves; the sprint from the Alliance had prevented them from opening the throttle fully anymore.

When Feliciano discovered that several of the Queen’s Vengeance had sustained minor injuries during their battle with the Alliance, he had grabbed Kiku and led him to the Liberty’s sick bay, instructing Gilbert, Ludwig, and Arthur, who insisted he be treated last (“I am the captain.” He huffed. “My crew comes first.”), to sit down in the chairs he procured.

“It’s really not necessary…” The Japanese man had protested, his need for propriety preventing him from accepting aid too freely. “I was planning on treating them in my infirmary…”

The Italian beamed at him, bubbly as ever. “No need!” He tossed Kiku some gauze and antiseptic. “All the drawers are labelled, take anything you need!”  
He began to tend to a gash in Ludwig’s right upper arm, clicking his tongue and sighing in disapproval when he saw how roughly the injury had been treated by the German.

“Really,” Feliciano said, gently cleaning away the dried blood and grime, “do you want it to get infected?”

Kiku looked up from Gilbert’s left shoulder. “They always do this.” He sighed, dabbing at the gouge in his own patient’s flesh. “And then expect me to patch them up, good as new.”

The other doctor chuckled. “Sounds a lot like Al.”

He began to wrap the blonde man’s bicep, stretching the gauze securely over the wound. 

The other captain in the room opened his mouth.

“What kind of a man is Captain Jones?” He asked, brow furrowed.

Feliciano looked at him, the normal cheery look on his face seeming slightly more subdued. “Cap… The Cap’n is…” He paused in his ministrations on Ludwig’s arm, resting his warm fingers on the other man’s pale skin. 

Gilbert smirked at the blush that begins to stain his little brother’s cheeks, warming the tips of his ears and creeping up the column of his neck.

“He’s all cheery and joke-y now, when it’s peacetime,” he continued, seemingly unaware of the effect his light touch was having on his patient. “But when it comes down to it…”

He didn’t finish his sentence, but chuckled and turned back to his charge, taping the wrapping tight enough to staunch any remaining bleeding and keep the wound clean.

Arthur frowned, contemplating, curious.

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE: So I haven’t finished this, but I might come back to it! It got too damn long…
> 
> And I will end up filling all of the USUK Sweetheart Week prompts eventually, I swear. It’s been busy.


End file.
